LAVW – Chapter 94 Handing in the Public Grain

Shi Qian carefully slipped out of the room, leaving the peace and quiet for Chen Niu, who was studying.

Since he had such a big appetite, Shi Qian’s first meal of the day only ended when Chen Niu went out to cook.

He had long since lost any sense of time when it came to grazing. He ate whenever he was hungry. In contrast, his body was quietly growing.

There wasn’t a scale, nor did anyone measure, but it could be seen at a glance that this little calf seemed to have gotten “a little fatter.”

Really—just a little bit more with each passing day.

By the time Zhang Peiyue got up, aside from the traces still lingering in her eyes, it was almost impossible to tell that she had been through any shock the previous day.

After a simple meal, she went out to work again.

Before leaving, Zhang Peiyue, as though remembering the newly eased family atmosphere, reminded them: “The millet has been dried. Looks like we can make it in time for the first day of handing in grain.”

Chen Niu could drive the cattle and was a strong laborer, so he had to get up early to turn in the public grain. For someone like the old lady, it wasn’t necessary.

Chen Niu nodded, stepping forward to take the stool from her hands. “Got it. Grandma, I’ll walk you there.”

Shi Qian strolled along behind, watching the old and the young quietly walking side by side.

After they left the house, and Shi Qian caught up, Chen Niu turned back and locked the courtyard gate.

A few steps later, Shi Qian realized he had forgotten his rope.

He went over to remind Chen Niu: “Moo, moo.”

The rope—you forgot the rope.

Chen Niu didn’t notice at first. After all, he was used to seeing Shi Qian wander freely around the house, even squeezing into the same room with him every day.

It was only after Zhang Peiyue glanced a few times that she narrowed her swollen eyes and said: “You forgot the rope.”

Then added: “Never mind, just leave it.”

Chen Niu thought about it and agreed. “Qian Niuhua, just behave yourself.”

Shi Qian looked around, making sure no one was around, before nodding his head.

He felt like he was even more conservative than the village natives—Grandma Zhang and Chen Niu weren’t worried, so maybe it really was time for him to start relaxing bit by bit.

Shi Qian hadn’t been following the old lady around to listen to gossip lately, so he didn’t know that ever since Zhao Kang was sent away, he himself had become quite the famous little calf—no less than his cow mother.

And as for yesterday’s matter, Xu Youguang had gone to the Public Security Bureau and explained everything, directly adopting the reason Zhang Peiyue had made up for him—that something unusual had been discovered with the little calf.

Once again, he was about to become the talk of everyone’s idle conversations.

Today, Chen Niu had a relatively easy task: stacking straw.

The rice stalks had been sun-dried for several days already and now needed to be gathered. Some of it had to be set aside as winter fodder for the plow cattle.

While collecting straw, there were also children carrying baskets to pick up stray grains of rice. If they found a whole ear of rice, that was a delightful surprise.

As Shi Qian wandered through the fields, he noticed that even the ridges had hardly any weeds left.

People were too diligent—leaving the little calf hungry.

At noon, when they returned home, Chen Niu dragged back ten or so bundles of dried straw. Bundled together, the locals called each bundle “a grass.”

Since they were dried, the bundles looked especially large. Sometimes the visual effect made it seem like Chen Niu was wearing a yellow skirt, which made Shi Qian “moo moo” with laughter.

After they had eaten, Chen Niu called the calf to help with chores.

“Qian Niuhua, stand firm and step steady,” Chen Niu instructed.

“Moo moo.”

Bring it on.

Shi Qian pressed down firmly on the top of the straw, using his two to three hundred pounds of weight to hold it solidly.

No matter how hard Chen Niu raked and pulled with the pitchfork, Shi Qian didn’t budge an inch—steady as a mountain.

After setting aside the best middle parts of the stalks, Chen Niu spread the rest out again to continue drying.

The scraps he shaved off were gathered as kindling.

When the work was done, Chen Niu sat on a half-spread bundle of straw, took out an arithmetic book, and began giving Qian Niuhua lessons.

In just a short time, they had already reached the level of first grade in primary school.

One reason was that Chen Niu taught quickly; the other was—Shi Qian simply didn’t want to keep doing first-grade exercises anymore!

He didn’t have the patience for it.

Besides, the content was far too simple and meaningless for Chen Niu at this stage.

When they reached middle school level, then Shi Qian could put on an act—pretend to be a poor student. That way, Chen Niu’s understanding would get tempered.

As for whether finishing all of primary school content in just half a year would scare anyone—Shi Qian didn’t care.

But to Chen Niu, even this current pace was already astonishing. He was convinced that when his little calf had been human, he must’ve been an exceptionally bright child, the kind to get perfect scores without even trying.

That day, Shi Qian huffed and puffed as he moved his hooves, neatly writing out a few lines of the multiplication table from memory.

Chen Niu said with admiration, “Qian Niuhua, you’re amazing! Not a single mistake.”

He sighed with real, heartfelt envy. “If only I could memorize Russian this fast. But I do feel like my brain’s working better now—what I learned this morning I can still remember clearly.”

Probably because his brain had finally become “whole.”

“Moo moo.”

Thanks for the compliment.

Shi Qian gave a polite reply, then trotted off to the water to wash his hooves.

When he came back, Chen Niu was back at his own studies, and even tried teaching Shi Qian a bit of Russian.

Then he started talking about what he knew of international affairs. But he didn’t finish before turning back to his own lessons again.

Shi Qian couldn’t keep up with his Russian—after all, Chen Niu had studied it before. Bored, he wandered outside to the drying yard to find Zhang Peiyue.

Chen Niu saw the little calf leave, but set his worries aside and didn’t follow.

After all, nothing much could happen in the village.

At most, people might nag a little—“Why’d you let the cow out?”

Chen Niu thought, if he ever became a cow, he probably wouldn’t be as carefree as Qian Niuhua.

Truly, it was children who were the happiest—carefree and untroubled. Chen Niu buried his head back in the dictionary.

When Shi Qian arrived at the drying yard, Xu Youguang was there too. He was the first to spot the little calf.

“Qian Niuhua! Out running again?”

“Moo moo.”

Mind your own business!

Shi Qian called out boldly, then trotted straight over to Zhang Peiyue’s side.

The others laughed, saying Zhang Peiyue really seemed to have gotten herself a little grandson, and quite a clingy one too.

Zhang Peiyue smiled and nodded. “Yes, he’s my little grandson. Qian Niuhua is so obedient and well-behaved.”

Shi Qian muttered softly, “Moo moo.”

Yesterday you were calling me “big brother,” though.

Xu Youguang crouched nearby, chuckling as he grabbed a few grains of rice and chewed them.

After biting down a few, he said, “It’s dry enough. When we hand in the public grain, it definitely won’t get sent back. Everyone’s worked hard.”

“What’s hard about it? A good harvest is worth it! The harder we work now, the stronger we’ll be.”

“The Party secretary has worked hard too—he’s gotten thinner.”

Xu Youguang said, “Everyone’s thinner. Once the public grain’s handed in, we’ll divide the rest. Then we can all have a few good meals.”

Joyful voices spread across the drying yard.

Standing off to the side, Shi Qian was happy too. He even got the idea of going to see how they handed in public grain—he had never seen it before and was curious.

But alas, he was just a little calf. Nobody wanted him for that kind of work.

So that night before departure, Shi Qian once again placed his hooves on Chen Niu’s bed.

Chen Niu: ?

“Qian Niuhua, what are you up to now?”

“Moo moo.”

I want to go watch them hand in the public grain.

Shi Qian set his front hooves down, pawing at the fresh straw mat beneath him. It was made from this year’s rice stalks, still carrying the scent of the fields.

Chen Niu deliberately teased, “Don’t want the new mat?”

“Moo moo.”

The little calf shook his head, then scratched out the character “公” (public) on the ground.

“You want to go see the public grain?” Chen Niu leaned over the table to recognize the character, then made his demand: “Write out all three characters properly, and I’ll take you.”

Shi Qian had just lifted his hoof to write when he realized something was wrong and was left speechless: … “Moo moo.”

You only taught me one of the words!

He lifted his hoof threateningly, pretending he was about to kick Chen Niu.

Chen Niu rolled onto the bed, and after a bit of play, suddenly remembered—oh, right, he hadn’t actually taught the other characters yet.

“Then I’ll teach you when I get back. Learn properly, okay.”

The little calf nodded: “Moo, moo.”

It’s a deal.

Shi Qian flopped back down, rolled once, and obediently went to sleep.

The next day was the same as usual—very early, Chen Niu got up and made food.

After he finished eating, he spoke a word to the old lady under her window, then went off to the grain barn to haul grain.

Shi Qian was sent to the cowshed, where he snuck in a meal with the calves.

Standing among the little calves, Shi Qian looked especially tall.

Xu Youguang led him over to a few year-old calves and concluded: “They’ve been eating well lately. Put on a lot of fat. In another few months next year, they’ll be ready to work the fields.”

He also asked Chen Niu why he hadn’t put in the nose ring yet.

Chen Niu excused himself: “He’s practically become the old lady’s treasure. If I put in a nose ring, she’ll end up making me wear one too.”

After Chen Niu left, Shi Qian heard Xu Youguang muttering: “Qian Niuhua, you’re lucky, they can’t even bear to put a nose ring on you.

“If it weren’t for the fact that these old fellows have to work, I’d want to—”

He didn’t finish his words, only raised his head to look at the cattle in the shed.

From the old ones to the young, some of them had been raised by Xu Youguang since birth.

Shi Qian lifted his head and nudged him: “Moo, moo.”

Xu Youguang patted the calf’s head, a bit envious: “You were lucky to be born in the Chen family. Your mother’s buried on that mountain over there.”

He pointed off toward a distant mountain.

“See that? That’s called Niufeng Mountain, because it looks like the back of a cow.”

Shi Qian found the mountain he meant. Among the nearby peaks, he thought it was the most beautiful.

Once the cattle had eaten, a call came from the granary, and Xu Youguang led the oxen to be harnessed to the carts.

Shi Qian, like some kid barging in where he didn’t belong, had no work to do. After glancing at the sweaty Chen Niu wiping his forehead with an old cloth, he wandered over to Xu Youguang, who was locking up the granary.

“Moo, moo?”

What are you looking at?

Xu Youguang was nearly used to this calf running around everywhere. He lowered his head to glance at him, sighed, and his expression carried a faint sorrow.

He murmured softly: “In just one go, half is gone.”

Shi Qian lifted his eyes. The once-full granary now had a third, maybe close to half, empty.

If he wasn’t mistaken, the side emptied out first was the plumpest rice.

Shi Qian, though he hadn’t worked the fields, had watched all the harvest come in.

That made him feel the same faint sadness as Xu Youguang. He sighed: “Moo—”

Xu Youguang only sighed once, then patted the calf’s head, his calloused hand shutting the granary door. He turned and called out: “Get ready, we’re setting off!”

Hearing that, Shi Qian obediently found Chen Niu at the very back of the line.

For the sake of “herding the calf,” Chen Niu, who usually went in front, had to stay at the rear.

Besides the ox carts, many people were walking, so as not to add extra burden to the animals.

Shi Qian blended into the crowd, a calf among men, drawing curious questions for Chen Niu.

“Why’d you bring Qian Niuhua along?”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose him?”

Chen Niu said: “There are so many of you, how could he get lost? And it’s not like Qian Niuhua doesn’t know me.”

“What if he runs wild in the city? What if someone catches him?”

“Didn’t I say? We’ve got plenty of people.”

“Such a hassle. What if he poops in the granary—”

Shi Qian was speechless: “Moo, moo…”

I would never.

He trotted ahead to escape their teasing.

But then the cattle up front noticed this “calf” getting more and more alarming, and silently quickened their pace too.

Xu Youguang noticed something was off and shouted back: “Chen Niu! Is your Qian Niuhua scared again?”

Last time it was just like this—made the whole herd speed up.

Chen Niu shouted back: “No! I’ll handle it.”

He jumped off the cart, pretended to smack the calf twice, then raised his whip threateningly.

Shi Qian obediently slowed down.

He couldn’t understand—wasn’t he cute? He was definitely the “top-tier face value” among cattle. Why did every bull and cow that saw him want to run?

“Moo, moo—”

The little cow sighed at the long road.

On the sometimes straight, sometimes winding dirt road, the procession stretched out.

As they went on, they even encountered other villages delivering grain. The line grew longer and longer.

For the first time since arriving in this world, Shi Qian saw a tide of people flowing like the sea.

Among them were ox carts, mule carts, donkey carts, people pushing wheelbarrows, carrying sacks, baskets—stretching far along the mountain road.

When they reached the uphill sections, laborers behind pushed the carts with all their strength, helping the straining oxen.

One cart pulled by a water buffalo was so overloaded that men had to hoist sacks on their shoulders and climb the slope themselves.

Shi Qian watched them struggling and wondered: why build the road along the mountain?

Then, seeing the harvested rice fields below, he realized how foolish the question was—farmers had to leave as much land as possible for crops. That was why they’d rather wind roads along mountains, curving to avoid the best farmland.

They walked on. The sun came out, beating down, and the line only grew longer.

Shi Qian heard people singing, encouraging everyone not to fear hardship and to deliver grain with high spirits.

He listened carefully—their singing was truly skilled.

Further on, after perhaps an hour of walking, Shi Qian finally “entered the city” and saw the county seat.

On the wall, slogans were painted: “The Chinese people have ambition and ability, and will, in the near future, catch up to and surpass the advanced levels of the world.”

Shi Qian turned back to look at the surging crowds behind him, and knew—it could be done.